Ildran is a cold blooded murderer who prefers fire over all other methods. He immolates his victims by trapping them inside wooden structures and then torching them. He is also meticulous about eliminating witnesses quickly and finally.

Like the mythical hydra, the Illuminati have many heads and even more hands. The minions of the Illuminati might work to their hidden master's ends without ever knowing the design of their work, or for whom they indeed work for.

The rain poured down on the city of Grathen in a relentless beat that would marvel the best of drummers. It beat down on the public buildings, with pedestrians streaming in front of, with eyes cast upwards and lips mumbling prayers to Rain Gods. It beat down on the Slums, where thieves were mumbling thanks to their gods for all these people looking up and not at their purses. And it beat down on Ariel Lorette, a girl of 13, escaping from horrors beyond the common person's imagination. Ariel Lorette, with rain streaming down her face and hiding her tears of pain and sorrow and, above all, victory. For Ariel had escaped them. Ariel was free.

More than one convoy crossing the Southwest, traveling through the Republic of Texas and Rocky Mountain Republic has found themselves in the crosshairs of a heavy black transfer truck and it's deranged driver.

The Baron Trotha is responsible for most of the recent trouble in Vallermoore, and yet not even his most trusted minions have ever seen his face, as he wears crimson robes and a skull-like mask of black-painted steel. Why he is attacking the Kingdom is unknown, as he has never bothered to explain his actions. But with the kidnapping of King Montor's daughter, he may have gone too far this time...

-Heroes scatter under barrage of grey energy spheres-
"You know kids, you didn’t mind when Captain Liberty took you down. He did it with honor, with respect, and followed the rules. Not you kids today. For you, it is all about The Power. Just as soon shoot you as take you in. And really young lady, would your mother approve of that costume? Not that the rest of you dress much better. What standard are you idiots setting for the young kids of today?"
-thwack-
"Get up. Don’t you have any pride? A novice should have been able to avoid that attack. You have a total lack of grit. Don’t lie there and moan. Get up. And that surprise maneuver you two are attempting. I have to tell you, not so much of a surprise. Now, stop standing there wide eyes and slack jawed. Do something. "

"The Dark One, he looks like anybody you see on the street. But when he grins, birds fall dead off high places. When he looks at you a certain way, your humors freeze and your urine burns. The grass yellows up and dies where he spits. He’s always outside. He came out of time. He doesn’t know himself. His names are legion as are his faces. He’s afraid of us. He is always on the outside looking in; hating people who have good fellowship and good conversation and friends - things he can not have. We’re inside. He knows magic. He can call the Night Beast and live in the shadows. He’s the king of nowhere. But he’s afraid of us. He’s afraid of . . . inside." The Book of Cauldius, found in the Royal Archive 828 by Arthurus the Wise

“They took you away from me, Victoria. They killed you. Those fools took away the only thing I had, and they turned me into a monster. Well, I’ll make them pay, Victoria. I’ll avenge you, beloved. I’ll kill all of them.”

Info

A group of humans living in a mountainous area have spent generations mining, drinking home made liquor, and generally not spreading the gene pool around enough. The end result is a sub-race of humans who no longer have necks, rather their heads protrude from the upper portion of the torso between the shoulders. They have beards, and lacking the ability to turn their heads, can only see what they are directly facing. They are simple and to the point, and direct to the point of bluntness.